


Chasing You

by Pixeltasumi



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Body Modification, Chef Hunk (Voltron), Drugs, Enemies to Lovers, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Futuristic, M/M, Paladins, Piercer Pidge, Piercings, Tattoo Artist Lance (Voltron), Tattoos, Weapons, White Lion Club, neon vibes, speed - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 08:10:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15747726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixeltasumi/pseuds/Pixeltasumi
Summary: Lance craves a high which he can’t find. The roads are tinkered with the feel of it and yet he cannot reach it. He speeds ahead in everything he does. So what happens when someone else takes the lead?





	Chasing You

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo...  
> I've been in a major writing slump, the block is strong af this time. But this got me out of it, thank god. 
> 
> Pro tip: don't get too attached, I'm not sure how far I'll go with this but for now it's getting me through the quagmire of this rut, so hurray!
> 
> Enjoy!

_  
Sometimes it’s hard to face reality. And Lance’s reality… Was that he was in love with the wrong person._

___

  
End of Summer  


“Yo, Pidge!” Lance called out as he practically threw himself off of his hoverbike, barely stopping to turn off the ignition, before hurtling towards the edge of the roof where a small figure was cramped against the waist length ledge. “Time to go- like, now!” He said as he went into a crouched position and hitting the wall, grabbing his blaster from it’s holster as his shoulder pressed harder to the concrete.

The small figure was still tucked with their back against the ledge, feet firm on the ground and legs bent to shelter the blue light in their lap as she hovered her torso over it. The rain seemed barely existent in the way that her eyes were skipping and twitching over the holoscreen. Spectacles, large enough to obscure half her face, reflected the light and vast number of digits. “Just a few more seconds.”, she growled. 

Lance sighed in agitation before squirming in his seat, turning and twisting with both his hands on the blaster that buzzed comfortably beneath his bare fingers. Behind his mask he saw through the lense how the surrounding buildings were offering a false sense of calm. But he knew that they might as well have been resting by the eye of the storm. Nothing was ever as it seemed.

“ _Pidge_ ,” He whispered warningly, shooting a look back towards the green paladin before turning back to the still surrounding. 

“Almost,” He heard the strain in her voice and could see the harsh pinch between her eyebrows without even having to check. 

The surrounding buildings were grey and dull, but bathing in the husk of many neon signs that crowded the streets. Greens and pinks made their way over the edge of the rooftops, making it their sole job to cast eerie shadows in the dusty air.

“Now!” Pidge exclaimed and Lance spun on the balls of his feet in time to catch the green paladin pulling her respective mask back over her face from where it had been perched on top of her head. Adding the hood to it as well and any sign of recognition was gone. With white and scratchy metal in the shape of a lion, covering her face, the green strokes over the details served as the only recognitionable marker, telling you who she was. 

Lance grabbed the smaller paladin by her arm just as she shoved the holopad into her backpack. He dragged his partner towards the bike with darting eyes before straddling it, Pidge following with ease, with a grip like vice as the engine awoke and they shot out with a burst from the rooftop. 

The engine almost seemed to die as they left solid matter and began to descend towards the streets. There was a large hum that grew into a roar, a gust of working air before the thrusters kicked in, and right before the machinery was about to splatter against the pavement, they shot off. With a growl of rhythmic hums they sped down the cramped world, only illuminated by the cheap commercial posters, and every other working street light. Lance felt how Pidge’s fingers dug into the fabric of his coat when a renewed gust of wind peppered them with water. The only reason he felt it was by the soaking of his clothes and his bare knuckles that were taking the colder winds by the tips. He tried to look back, but with the rain pouring down on them, Blue was craving his attention.

But as if on cue, the smaller figure turnt and Lance felt how her body stretched to form a suitable viewing point. 

“We’re good!” She called before Lance swerved and dodged a lone stack of metal crates.

“You sure?” Lance shot back as he laid low to the body of his bike, feeling how Pidge replicated the gesture. 

“Well, if you’d like to stay and check then fine by me!” She jeered.

Lance took a sharp right, leaning the same way, as they entered one of the busier streets of the sector. “No, think I’m good.” He replied, straightening the vehicle in time to innocently fall in line with the traffic. 

Come morning, more would know of the night’s escapades, but only a fool claimed victory in advance. 

The road continued for a silent set of moments before there was a split and Lance fell into one of the left lanes in favor of leaving the island behind and following the highway that curved outwards, towards the intersections. Large graffitied signs hung over the roads that swooped past above them. Together with broken and forgotten streetlights, the signs of neglect and abandonment laid heavy, close to tangible in the atmosphere. But lights, there were plenty of. The whole city bathing in the different saturations of neon.

Below them was nothing and there had always been just that. The lights ended not far from where they were. If there had ever been anything down there, no one knew what. The cities had just kept building and building, till there was only one left. And the towers and islands that it consisted of did not remember a time before.

The motorways that clung to the lower levels tied together in an intricate knot of networking, binding the different pillars together by the center of it all. A roadwork that hovered midair, supported by enough islands and towers to stay for many years to come. And Lance knew it like the back of his hand. Skirting past hovercrafts of different kinds, he smirked at the wide eyed looks they left behind. It was the sharp Vs embroidered by the backs of the two paladins that left all in their wake to ogle. 

Ignoring any previous laws of steering and speed, Lance twisted and came up beside those who were driving too slow.

When a smaller road shot out from the main one, he swooped down it to follow down an incline, resulting in dark tunnels enveloping them both. A low and filthy fluorescent light flickered by them, clashing with the blue of the bike, as they passed and emerged a whole three levels below their last. With the same ambiance as before, Lance lowered the speed to thread past the crooked paths, in between oddly placed building and further down the network of architecture. 

Once finally coming to a stop, the bike hummed low as it idled. Pidge shot up from her previous clammed position behind him, and with two hands on the seat, she jumped off the bike to land behind it. She didn’t remove the mask but Lance could feel the smug look on her face as the green paladin walked up beside him. 

“Satisfied?” Lance quirked an eyebrow behind his own mask as he leaned lazily over the steering with his elbows. 

“Immensely.” Pidge replied before yanking up the backpack that clung at her back. An ugly green thing with purple buttons resembling eyes, the entire thing decorated to replicate a monster eating it’s interior. 

Lance lifted his hand with a sloppy grin, fisting his digits and bumping it with Pidge’s. “See ya tomorrow, Pidgeotto.” 

“Don’t drive off the edge, Tailor.” Pidge scoffed with an underlying tone of amusement as she twirled on her heels and headed for one of the connecting alleyways that clung to the side of an old chinese restaurant. 

Lance gasped in mock offense before straightening up over the hovercraft. “Me? Drive off the edge? Never.” He grinned before kicking the ignition, with one foot firm one the ground he spun the bike around in a short lived U-turn before leaving Pidge behind, speeding away once again. Something he found himself doing a lot.

Faster.

A word that echoed loudly inside his head as he made it out onto the greater roads again. Non contained by the non existent obstacles, he hurried out onto one of the older roads, the rain dancing harshly over his billowing coat. With his sleeves sloppily pushed back, the cold would’ve been imminent in the shadows of the night, had his body not been racing with the adrenaline that the speed brought with it. 

Or, it’d be a lie to say that the speed brought it to him. It was ever constant within. Just like his bike, it hummed low and steady beneath the surface. An additional heartbeat that waited to be ignited into the ember that would fill his world in shades of which he’d never seen before. A privilege. A blessing. A high. Something that the speed coaxed out of him. 

And just as it mustered out every piece of adrenaline that his body had to offer, it brought out a feral need of more. He hooted with a close to manic grip on the steering when the thunder struck far away in the distance. Rumbling in a hungry manner that made Lance’s insides curl. 

Vehicles of different kinds made way for him, or at least made sure not to get in his way. 

He drove past them like swerving between practice cones, hitting the gas a little more every time. Passing the point of danger and hitting the wall of deadly within seconds. The high was so close and he chased it. Like an euphoria that was just out of reach; a heaven, an utopia. 

As if his hand was reaching and reaching, fingers splayed wide in a wild attempt of catching whatever rested just behind the veil of limit. 

But just as every night before, the climax of it _was_ just out of reach. No matter how much he clawed, he always had to settle for that middle ground of _almost_. But he never stopped. And he knew that the nights to come, would be no different. The chase was ever constant. The speed was ever craving. 

Growing closer to the end of the line, beginning to hit the inner trafics of the upcoming tower, he slowed down. There was a disappointment there, but it was so _normal_ that he knew the scratching pain would soon be forgotten. Because the days to come would be no different. Rest brough new chances. New opportunities to break the speed.

The last pieces of road was shortly forgotten as he pulled up towards a small neighbourhood of downfallen apartments. Stone walls with chips in them. Light bulbs with missing interiors. Home. A strange concept in a strange world. 

“See you tomorrow, Blue.” Lance spread his fingers wide as he swept his palm across the metal of his bike. And before he knew it, he was slamming the garage opening shut and locking it firmly with the keycard that he carried inside his inner pocket. He listened as the interior of the garage began to move, knowing how it was rearranging in his favor, protecting what was his. 

Just like he’d left it, his apartment was waiting for him steadily. The radio in the kitchen making it every bit more homey as the music played upon entering. A low light flickered above him in time for the door to hit the frame and the locks to twist automatically. 

Lance wasted no time in kicking off the combat boots that clung to his drenched body. Stripping down from his coated state into just pants and shirt, then boxers, and then fully nude, he found himself falling onto the bed deeper within the apartment without much further thought to the trailing mess he left behind. He wrapped himself in pillows and blankets. Familiarity. Trying his best to not think too much about the irking need of _more_ as he closed his eyes. Thunder mixing with the low music of a radio. Thoughts of a high and the taste of rain on his lips, he fell asleep. 

\---

The alarm went off way too early. Like a siren that broke a dam, flooding everything and everyone. Forcing Lance to curl in on himself and to kick blindly towards the sound that was across from him. 

Since when was his alarm by the end of his bed? Oh right. He passed out last night before getting his stuff out of his pants pockets. 

Grudgingly he forced himself into a sitting stance, thankful to hear the alarm turn off, not so thankful for the fact that he knew it’d start up again at any moment. 

His eyes felt heavy and he knew without a single glance in the mirror that his hair was stretching into spiked and awkward angles by the back of his head. With crooked fingers, he went into what he knew was more of a tic than a morning routine, no matter how much he tried to convince himself. After all, morning routines didn’t stretch a full twenty four hours.

Picking and spinning at the hoop on his bottom lip, he saw the late afternoon light try to break through his curtains. Grey and dull as it was, it didn’t do much other than to brighten the mess that was his bedroom. 

And then the shrieking of damn ghouls began again as the pants by the door frame began buzzing. Lance winced at the sharp sound and rocked back to let the momentum carry him to his feet. After scratching the inside fabric of his old jeans and finally finding the damn device he, like many times before, considered throwing it out the window. Four floor above solid ground was bound to do _some_ harm. But then he saw the row of texts that were crowding the back of the alarm. 

Turning it off, the texts grew into focus and he quickly began to skim through it. 

**(Paladin group), Daddy:** Meeting at White, tonight at 11. Don’t be late.

 **(Paladin group), Princess:** Meeting postponed to 11.30.

 **(Paladin group), Daddy:** Meeting postponed to 12.00.

 **(Paladin group), Pidgeotto:** ffs, we’ll be there by one, be descent or regret it

 **(Paladin group), Chef:** Aww stop it Pidge

 **(Paladin group), Chef:** I think it’s cute 

**(Paladin group), Pidgeotto:** Ever thought WHY they keep pushing the meetings?

 **(Paladin group), Chef:** ok. nmv. Gross guys. Really gross.

 **(Paladin group), Daddy:** That’s not why we’re postponing things!

 **(Paladin group), Pidgeotto:** Right.

 **(Paladin group), Chef:** Did everything go well with Lance last night?

 **(Paladin group), Princess:** Did you obtain what you were supposed to?

 **(Paladin group), Pidgeotto:** That

 **(Paladin group), Pidgeotto:** And more

 **(Paladin group), Princess:** Good. That should just about prepare us for the next deal.

 **(Paladin group), Chef:** Right. So why are we meeting tonight again? Not that I mind but, like, I’m meeting Shay at the restaurant later and we were hoping to just stay in for the night.

 **(Paladin group), Daddy:** We’ll let you all know when it’s time.

 **(Paladin group), Pidgeotto:** You just made this day insufferable…

 **(Paladin group), Daddy:** You’ll live.

 **(Paladin group), Daddy:** By the way, where’s Lance? 

**(Paladin group), Pidgeotto:** Sleeping probs, took its fair time last night

 **(Paladin group), Daddy:** Well, as long as he’s not late tonight.

 **(Paladin group), Chef:** don’t worry, i’ll swing by his place before I go to pick up some supplies

 **(Paladin group), Pidgeotto:** restaurant supplies or “other” supplies?

 **(Paladin group), Chef:** Restaurant

 **(Paladin group), Pidgeotto:** ok. Tell him to bring back my headphones. I told him he could borrow them. not take.

 **(Paladin group), Chef:** Sure. But why aren’t you sleeping right now if it took that long last night? 

**(Paladin group), Chef:** A sweet sweet mix of dubstep and coffee.

Lance was interrupted from the chain of text messages as his phone buzzed anew, far away from the hour long texts. 

**Hunk the Munk:** Hey dude, on my way over in case you’re up already. Could use some help to load the truck, I’ll drop you off at the studio after we’re done?

Squeezing his eyes shut and stretching his hands way above his head, with a back arched like a cat, he felt a satisfying pop by one of the lower vertebraes. Rolling his neck from side to side, he walked over to his dresser, shot away a short reply and then grabbed a pair of clean underwear. 

He left his phone by the dresser, cast away in the clutter that blended atop of it, and then jumped into the shower. Scrubbing his skin close to raw, he worked away the grime that had embedded itself over his tan skin the past few days. Pollution that mixed with the general dirt that came with the job was rinsed away, leaving room for a fresher feel. 

With washed body and face, clean hair and moisturized skin, he began to feel somewhat more human once he stepped out of his bathroom again. Phone still on the dresser as he padded the floors to grab a worn and torn white T that draped the chair next to his desk. He was mid-leg through a pair of dark blue jeans when the doorbell buzzed loudly through the small and minimized apartment.

“I’m coming!” Lance said as he got into his jeans and only partly stuttered with his gait as he attempted to make it to the door whilst applying socks to his feet. He placed a hand on the handle and immediately the locks shifted. The door pushed open to reveal a larger man with an orange and worn bandana wrapped around his head. With an green vest, yellow shirt and sand brown pants, the most prominent feature was his vibrating smile. 

“Sup buddy.” Lance smiled before stepping back into the small hallway, kicking aside last night's shoes so that Hunk could step inside. 

“Hey, nice to see that you’re up.” Hunk stepped inside as if it was his own place, which it once had. Back when Lance and Hunk had been roommates and poorer than the city rats. But then Shay, Allura and Shiro came around and changed just about everything. That, however, didn’t stop Hunk from toeing off his shoes and chucking of his vest. 

“What can I say, I’m a man of business, gotta stay on that grind.” Lance grinned, making his way to the kitchen to open his fridge. Grabbing a loaf of bread and some milk he sat down by the kitchen table. 

Hunk gave him a disapproving look, stepping into the kitchen as well, but before he could as much as open his mouth, Lance interrupted him with a mouth full of dry bread. “Uh, nuh!” He held up a finger towards his still standing friend. “If you’re not around to cook, then you can’t complain when things like this happens.” He said sternly before chugging a large gulp of milk, beating his chest once, twice, with a closed fist till the chunk of food went down. “Five stars.” He wheezed, feeling the involentarly prickle of tears by the insides of his eyelids at the discomfort. 

Hunk looked just as physically pained by the jest of it and Lance swore that he saw the guy cringe before he turned to look out the kitchen window with a sigh. 

“So,” Lance started up again, going at his second slice of bread. “What’s up with the dream team? You know what’s happening tonight?” 

Hunk shrugged before pursing his lips, “No idea. Pidge’s money is on the fifty-seventh sector.” 

Lance snorted, “Well Pidge can put her money where her mouth is. I bet he proposed, _no_ , scratch that. I bet Allura proposed.” He grinned swiping another chug.

“I don’t know,” Hunk said thoughtfully as he scanned the kitchen, looking for all the world as if he was expecting the answer to rest in any of its nooks and crannies in there. “I think it has to do with that thing Shiro mentioned last week…”

“What thing?” Lance said with a puzzled expression. He couldn’t remember their leader having said anything especially prominent. 

Hunk just shook his head, letting out a sigh, “Nah, nevermind.” He got up. “You ready yet?” 

Lance grabbed one last piece of bread before shoving the food back in the fridge and hurrying out towards his bedroom, “Just gonna grab my bag.” 

“Oh, and Pidge want their headphones back!” Hunk’s voice trailed after him, but Lance pretended to not hear. 

Hunk waited for him by the door and once Lance got back from his room, phone in his coat, coat on his back, and bag on his shoulder, they made their descent to the main level before jumping into Hunk’s van. The bikes were easier to maneuver, but during the day, none of the paladins were especially keen on bringing attention to themselves. The shadows were where they operated. 

“So… How’s Shay?” Lance asked with a grin like the cheshire cat, batting his lashes innocently as Hunk buckled up. The grin only grew wider, stretching at his skin, by the deepened shade that formed over the larger man’s complection. 

“S-she’s fine.” Hunk said with what seemed to have been planned out to be a strong and solid voice, but fell short at the actual performance of it.

“Aww, c’mon buddy. Give me the deets.” Lance rose his feet, displaying his legs as he rested the boots over the panel. Hunk gave him a sideways stare of disapproval but made no further effort in stopping him. 

“The _‘deets’_ are that we’re good.” Hunk said simply, turning out into the traffic and heading for the neighbouring tower. In the daylight you saw the dull atmosphere way clearer. You distinctly saw how blurred the world truly was. How the roads climbed between pillars. How there was no sun. How there was only clouds that covered the higher and lower levels. A bubble of grey that not even the strongest of neon could burst. 

But Hunk seemed unaffected by the monochromatic surrounding. A far too soft and loving calm settled atop of him, out of place in the general setting they existed by. “You should’ve seen her the other day,” He sighed dreamily. “I got her this dress that I knew she’d been looking at and god Lance… She was stunning.” His gaze was far away and even Lance, the heartbreaker that he so proudly labeled himself as, melted at the sight of it.

He could pretend and say that he was clearly just happy for his friend. But that’d be a lie and it had been far too long for Lance to not have figured that out already. He knew that that little tug at his heart had nothing to do with plain happiness and it was plainly about the fact that Lance saw just _what_ Hunk was gazing so fondly at. It was a high. It was _his_ high. His escape. 

And worst of all was that Lance knew where his own was. He was just getting tired of waiting for himself to grasp it. 

“Aww,” Lance chuckled, playfully hitting Hunk’s bicep with his loosely knitted fist. “You big old love machine.” 

Hunk frowned over the already existing smile, “Eww, _never_ say that again.” 

Lance laughed and made for a mock flexing of his upper body, posing whilst theatrical grunting, “Hunk, the _love machine_.”

“God, I’m gonna be sick.” Hunk said, turning off the connecting highway, but failing to cover the smile as he turned his head just a bit too late. 

It was enough for Lance to fall back into the seat with a soft breath and wide smile. 

Getting Hunk’s orders were easy enough, routine for some time, as he prefered getting help by his friends when he went on the rounds. They loaded the truck within minutes, Hunk dealt with the payment as Lance double checked everything on the list and the actual goods. Hunk’s resturant was _the_ best in the lower levels and nothing but the best was worthy in his kitchen, or so he said. It had taken quite some time to gain the man’s trust in letting Lance make that judgement which- sure, Lance could see why, especially considering his own pantry and fridge. 

“Everything good?” Hunk’s voice piped up from behind as Lance lifted one of the lids to check inside. 

He counted the jars inside and then nodded, “Yeah, looks good.” He chucked the supply list through the air, Hunk far to aware of the tradition to not catch it and look through it once with a brisk nod. 

“Great, want me to drop you off at the shop then?” He said when Lance used one hand to jump off of the truck’s back. 

“Nah, I have to go pick up Blue. You know if Pidge’s there though?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure she hasn't slept in like two days.” Hunk said before getting into the driver’s seat once again, Lance accompanying him on the opposite side. 

“Classic.” Lance sing songed before pulling out his phone and starting to scroll through the remnants of the texts that he’d missed during his beauty hours. 

Hunk dropped him off outside his garage that stayed a safe couple of blocks away from his own apartment and after that it wasn’t long till Lance had found his way to a small schack, tucked away in the middle of a streets with a dislodged sign atop of it that no one had taken their time to fix. As per usual, the lighter hours brough little to no activity in the area, and many similar shacks were still locked solid, grey metallic gates slammed over the entrances with signs that still read _closed_ in bold lettering. If you looked really closely, you could see the general dust that drifted through the streets. One of the reasons to why Lance prefered the night, it hid the reality. 

But even though most shops were uninvitingly cold, the one he was dropped off by was not. The black protective bars that stayed bolted shut over the entrance during the days, when no one worked, were pulled back. And even though the sign looked dull in the otherwise bright demeanor of the atmosphere, if you squinted, you saw the faint glow of it. 

After having parked Blue by the back, Lance stepped inside to find just about what he’d expected. A worn sofa set that stood as a waiting room to your right. Magazines spread out over the small coffee table together with two presumably empty beer bottles. Walls covered with overlapping pictures of designs that varied from paper to already tattooed. As the curtains were still pulled taught to elevate any daylight, the blues and greens of the lights were casting shadows like nightfall. 

With a large counter by the opposite side of the sofa set, there were a large variety of miscellaneous artifacts that clattered the room. The only really _reserved_ spaces being the stationary screen centered on the other side of the counter, right in front of a crooked office chair that had not always been crooked, but the cause having been one too many shots of a couple of percentages to high alcohol. The mirror to the left of the entrance staid untouched as well. Together with a lone picture that hung on the wall behind the first sofa of the room. The picture was a design that Pidge had made which Lance had insisted on framing.

“Look who’s alive,” Lance said as the curtain to the left of the desk was pulled back, revealing a birds nest of auburn hair, wide spectacles, and oversized clothing that covered most of the body, except a pair of toothpick legs. “Barely.” Lance amended at the full impact of the figure. 

Pidge looked normal in her overall aura, Lance had to admit. It was mostly the exterior that was the issue. Hair tangled to the point of which one could wonder if it wasn’t just a single knot. Clothes saggy after far too many hours of usage. Smudges of god knows what staining the front of the large shirt - that Lance was pretty sure was a t-shirt, but it reached all the way down to the figure’s forearms. 

And.. _Was that a pen hanging through her gauge?_

“Thanks,” Pidge said with a dry voice before trudging over towards the armchair of the room where a laptop and computer was resting. She sntached the set off of it before dropping down with her feet flung over one of the arm rests.

Lance dropped his bag by the couch to his right before taking two strides and dropping into the sofa opposite of it. “Percentage?” Lance asked with a quirked eyebrow as he craned his neck to watch Pidge’s finger attack the keyboard. 

Pidge paused for a second, turning her head upwards and looking out into the nothing with calculating eyes before answering, “I’d say a fair twenty-eighty by now. Yeah.” 

“Dear god,” Lance turned away with comically wide eyes before dropping his head against the low armrest of the couch. “You know what’s happening tonight?” He sighed, closing his eyes in content. 

“Nope.” Pidge said simply, the clatter of the keyboard still prominent behind his head. “Might have to do with the fifty-seventh sector. But I don’t see how that would come into play considering last night, and also with how damn secretive Shiro’s acting.” 

“Right,” Lance mumbled before scooting closer into the crease of the sofa and throwing an arm to rest over his eyes. He heard how Pidge continued but the distance of her voice grew larger as she went on, and Lance was not one to argue because it was kind of nice. Smelled like worn leather, ink, alcohol and smoke. Home. 

Next thing he knew, he was being kicked in the head by the gremlin that was supposedly his friend and business partner, making him bolt right up from his comfortable position. “What the fuck, _Pidge_!” He cried out with venomous eyes after he’d turnt with a snap to glare at the girl. 

Pidge looked at him with an unimpressed stare, “It’s almost time to go.”

“Wh-” Lance stopped himself as he caught the flicker of the clock to the right of his friends head. It turned from twelve twenty-six, to twenty-seven. The dark shade of it all of the sudden very strong and bright. Far brighter than he remembered earlier. “Shit,” Lance looked around, realizing it was already night. “Well, where’s Romelle?” 

“Right here!” A voice, way too cheerful to be Pidge’s, piped up from the other side of the couch and Lance had to lean on the back of it to see that there was now someone sitting on the other side of the large front desk. The familiar roll of the office chair swooped through the room as the girl came spinning out onto the floor. 

Her long blonde hair was in her elaborate bun, which only allowed two thin strands to hang down by the front of it. Looked like a large braid that crowned the back of her head, but Lance knew it was far more elaborate than that. Somehow she found the time to decorate it as well. Every day showing up with rings and stones in it. The tattooed marks that clad her cheekbones were especially plum once she smiled and showed off the smiley piece of metal that hid behind her upper lip. “Don’t worry Lance, I only took a few pictures of you drooling.” Her face turned devilish with a smug smile at that as she intertwined her fingers over her stomach. 

“Wha- Hey, I’m your _boss_.” Lance exclaimed indignantly, looking from the blonde girl to Pidge. Pidge wasn’t even paying attention any longer. 

Romelle chuckled viciously before slowly pushing her way back behind the counter, leaving Lance to drop his head in frustration against the back of the couch with a groan. 

“Allura’s texting me, wants me to tell you to get ready.” Romelle continued as if nothing. “She says get off the couch.” 

“Stop telling her what I’m doing.” Lance sighed, closing his eyes whilst breathing in the worn leather. 

“She says that there’s no excuses to be late tonight and that you need to get Blue.” 

“Blue’s already here! And what about Pidge?! Why aren’t you asking her to do things?” 

“Green’s in the back.” Pidge spoke all of the sudden without removing herself from the screen. “And I’m ready whenever.”

“I swear to god, you guys are ganging up on me.” Lance muttered before pushing off the couch and to his feet. Once back to his full length he saw how Romelle had her feet thrown up by the desk and was leaning so far back in the chair that she almost seemed to be tipping it threateningly. “Tell Allura I’ll be ready in time if she gets Hunk to bring me some food.” 

“I’m not your secretary,” Romelle said with a snort.

“I-,” Lance let the words die on his tongue, mouth hanging open for second before snapping it shut with a huff and spinning on his heels, “That’s it, I’m done.” He snatched his bag off the couch and exited to Romelle’s wild laughter. Stepping out, he could immediately let out a deep breath, refill his lungs, and then repeat.

The streets were moving again and there was a well known rhythm of life that coursed through it. It wasn’t raining, but from the looks of it, there’d been some during the hours that Lance had lost on the couch. Small pools were forming in the creases and dents over the worn concrete, reflecting different forms and shapes of light. Some of the storefront had tiny rooftops over them that were now dripping slowly. To Lance’s right he watched as the local burger shop was opening up their little patch. A direct insight to a small and cramped kitchen. Only serving to go, but damn if they weren’t getting close and gaining on Hunk’s burgers. His attention was pulled away as three young adults stumbled down the streets of his left. Looked around his own age. 

But they looked like they didn’t have a care in the world as they passed him. Laughing and giggling, arms over each other’s shoulders in an intimacy of friendship. 

“You ready?” Pidge walked out from the shop to stand beside him, backpack well in place once again, but now also wearing a copper green bomber jacket with sleeves that were tucked back to reveal her small forearms.

“Let’s fly,” Lance spun on his heels to walk backwards with his hands deeply tucked into his coat pocket, winking to the gremlin who just rolled her head with her eyes in a low groan. But she followed nonetheless. 

Like any other night, Lance took the lead as they detangled themselves through the city that only grew vertically like the spindly knot it was. A web of mismatched jigsaw pieces that somehow still fitted. 

Arriving by the White Lion was also way familiar. Closing in on the nights apex, the vibrating of the dance floor was buzzing even outside by the parking. Four reserved seats, two still untouched, till Pidge and Lance drove up by them. It all was illuminated by the club’s stark white sign, stronger than any neighbouring ones, it overtook most of its surrounding with its heaven like glow. But even as the signed shone with a bright and renewed glow, the interior changed as fast as you past the two meatheads by the entrance. 

Dimmed light that flickered to life for a brief moment before going back into a way smoother hue. Blasting music that almost made the smoke vibrate. The air tasting of weed, alcohol and sweat. A lifestyle of its own, something that called a lot of people. 

Lance and Pidge made their way through the bustling crowd with relative ease. Slipping through openings between bodies before the moment disappeared and the gap closed once again. A coordinated and well practiced way of moving.

They made it across with Lance having grabbed two shots, offered Pidge one, and downed both by himself when she declined. On the other side stood a large man with greying hair, he let them through the velvet rope barrier with a low nod, taking the empty shot glasses that Lance handed him with another solemn nod. Even staying professional through Lance’s shit eating grin. 

Ascending the stairs, the two paladins found themselves by the lesser known VIP deck. An arched room that curved alongside and above the bottom level, glass walls that offered insight to the downstairs bravado and a handful of comfortable balconies with the same sort of purpose. 

“Lance, Pidge!” Shiro called out from across the room, situated by one of the sofa groups together with Allura by his side. The black paladin sat with on arm over the back of the couch, resting behind his partner. A white shirt and black vest over it, a holster still slacked, loosely strapped over his torso. Allura herself was wearing a pink leather jacket, in stark contrast to the otherwise toned down color spectrum. A slim black dress that reached her mid-thighs, closely met by a just as high killer stilettos. 

“Daddy, Princess.” Lance gave a curt nod upon entering their sphere, dropping down by the opposing couch. Pidge followed suit and ditched her bag by the floor in favour of swinging her feet up to rest on the small table diving the two pairs. 

“Glad to see you could make it.” Allura smiled, lowering the glass of wine in her hand to rest the foot by her lap.

“Glad to see you’re descent.” Pidge snickered, holding up a silent fist that Lance directly bumped with a similar grin. Shiro shot them both a disapproving look but chose not to comment. “Hunk here?” Pidge dropped back her head, twisting side to side and scanning the room behind her. 

“Not yet,” Allura said. “But any minute now.”

“So you’re really not gonna tell us what’s going on?” Lance asked with an unimpressed quirk to his eyebrow.

“Afraid not.” Allura offered with a gentle smile, so different from the face she used when handling business. 

“Right…” Lance said dubiously. “Shiro’s being awfully quiet.” He lidded his eyes, scanning the black paladin. 

“That’s because he’s the weakest link,” Pidge smirked. “What do you know Shiro, tell us.”

“Yeah, Daddy, be bad.” Lance crooned and waggled his eyebrows with a barely suppressed grin. “Don’t just get caught grabbing one cookie, take the whole damn jar.”

Both Lance and the green paladin burst into laughter at the discomfort so clearly displayed by their leader’s face. He huffed and looked away in favor of ignoring the two across of him. Lucky him, because to his saving came Hunk. 

“Hey man.” Lance lifted a hand, waving at the big guy from his slouched placement on the couch. Hunk smiled as per usual as he claimed the armchair to the left of Lance and Pidge, and to the right of Allura and Shiro. 

“Hey guys, sorry I was late. I didn’t miss anything right?”

“Sadly not. But now when you’re here, maybe we’ll get to know what’s up- Wait! Bet’s first.” Lance shot up with renewed interest. He scanned Allura and Shiro with a jest of suspicion, both of his specimens seeming less than amused by it. “I say… Yeah, no. Allura probs popped the question.” He fell back into his melted position against the couch. “Pidge?”

“Still think it’s the sector.” 

“Hunk?”

“I really just want to get on with this, I’m meeting Shay later.” The guy smiled apologetically, leaving Lance ro roll his eyes, but the action lacked any real malice. 

“Fine, spill the beans. You’re not pregnant, are you?” Lance crossed his arms with an inquisitive look. 

Allura’s eyes darkened _at once_ , a piercing glare that even had Lance stiffening in his seat.

“Eh- not that it looks like it.” He said with a way too forced smile that only turned cheapish, accompanied by a half hearted laughter.

“ _Guys_.” Shiro interjected, and by so he pulled the attention away from further discussion of anything else. A far to familiar tone was in place, something they all knew and associated to work. “It’s not about the sector. We’re not getting married. And _we’re not_ pregnant.” He shot a pointed look to Lance before continuing. “This is a paladins meeting.” 

With more than a handful of those in the past, all knew what it meant. With Allura and Shiro coordinating and leading the team, a secret that had to only be discussed over an official meeting by the White Lion meant that _something_ was happening. Unsure of precisely _what_ that was, Lance started chewing the piercing by his lower lips, spinning it with his tongue as he grasped for something to fiddle with. 

“We’ve decided that it’d be best to bring in another paladin.” Allura spoke up, abandoning her drink by the table to instead gently lean her elbows over her crossed legs. “We’ve found someone to pilot Red.” 

No one spoke. At one point it seemed that time had slowed. That you could drop a needle- no, a molecule of sand, and you’d hear it rumble and tumble, crashing into the carpeted floor of the VIP lounge.

Lance felt an abundant mass of emotion course through him. Each paladin of their own piloted one of the five hoverbikes known as Voltron. Bikes that’d been crafted through the old worlds material, something you rarely encountered these days. Something that the Galra would absolutely love to lay their hands on. 

Thereby, piloting one was a privilege, a duty. You formed a connection with your own role in the team. You _felt_ that connection with your bike. Finding someone to pilot each one was trial and error. It took skill and determination. Heart and soul. A natural connection and symbiosis. 

And as that was well known through the group, it was also well known that the red bike had _never_ responded. Not to anyone. The seat had remained untouched for years. As Lance claimed Blue, Pidge claimed Green, Hunk claimed Yellow and Shiro claimed Black. But no one had suited Red. Allura had tried. God bless the woman for her hard effort and work. But the connection had remained untouched and unable to stretch between them. 

And now… Now someone had? 

Allura and Shiro had _really_ found someone that could pilot it… 

A new paladin of Voltron.

**Author's Note:**

> As I said, I'm not sure how far I'll take this, but if you have ideas or thoughts then please comment! Even the smallest of things can inspire whole chapters!
> 
> Also! Let me know what you thought of this!
> 
> Also Also: God bless my beta reader Pat for helping me out and inspiring me!


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